You will write.
So you won't think.
You will open this canvas.
When what you really opened was the notes on your mobile.
You will stare at it blankly.
You will wish that by typing on the keyboard the feeling of your stomach being tied in knots will go away.
You will falter.
You will stop writing words.
You will believe that even words cannot save you at this point.
You have relied too much on other things you thought could save you.
You will remember that it is in writing where you always came back.
You will forget how to spend the days and nights without ushering a single word.
You will feel the ounce of every silent moment begging to crack open the vent trapped inside your lungs so that you could breathe.
You ought to know that telling how you see the world around you or how you see your life would make no sense.
You will hold onto it no matter what.
You will carry on even if there's a bunch of load with you.
You will carry it in your back, your shoulders, your head, your mouth, your heart.
You will not unload because you have a habit of letting it out all out just like the vessel that you are but completely abandoning every thing that have once made you heavy.
You will realize that the dam that just broke will help with the weight but it will leave you drained.
You will once again get no shortage of how it feels to feel empty.
You've released all of the stuff that made you weary but you still felt drained and wounded.
You will water the seeds of guilt for being like this, for feeling like this, for acting like this.
You will be in a loop just like the cycle that never ends, rain drops on land, water will evaporate when it's time to shot up at the sky again, vapor will condensate and will begin to gain weight until you will have no control over it.
You will let it go, the rain will fall once again back to Earth.
You will be given two choices: patience and acceptance.
You will be patient to hold the water inside your cloud.
You can get bigger to hold more water in.
You can be darker to stretch your breaking point.
You will have to accept.
You will turn into the shape of a cloud until you disappear once you run out of all the water you once were.
You will make it rain because just like the rainbow after a storm it is inevitable.
You will hurt.
You will get hazy because rain is not supernatural.
You will always happen.
You will try to run away from the pain.
You will hold the water in longer than usual.
You will even try to not become a cloud at all.
You will abandon your very essence as a vessel just to make it stop.
You will curse at the rain when some people below you consider it a blessing.
You will hold it, the rain the longest time possible.
You will ignore that without water Earth will turn barren and withered.
You will hear the prayer of the people below, the rain sticks they'll use to call out to you.
You will stop yielding.
You will because that's what you are.
You will only be a vessel until it's time to empty yourself again, only to be filled and emptied over and over again.
You will stop denying the inevitable.
You will start to stop shielding yourself from the fear of breaking.
You will open, you will break because hearts only open when they do break.
You will break apart yourself so that water can once again reach the surface of the Earth.
You will, in time, return to the skies again.
You will not need an anchor to tie yourself the ground.
You will not need wings to keep yourself in the clouds.
You will not be the kite to a line.
You will not wander without attachment.
You will not fall off without a lift.
You will be a vessel.
You will always be a part of the cycle.